The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1887-05-06

| he passed the paper over the blood
hounds nose again and again.
Carries bloodhound was not of the
misnamed Spanish mastiffs which hunted
| Cuban slaves, but real bloodhound
black and-tan in color slow but steady
in pursuit, developed like a tobacco
chewer, bow-legged as country tailor,
fierce in nothing, merely maryelously
| scented and only more solemn than a
foxhound. In all respects of clvility Ne
| grofoot was a Quaker, except in the well
known Quakerly scent for either the
| spirit or the substance on which his per-
ceptions have been set He had loved
Mark Hanson; he loved Carrie Devoe,
too, but Mark had trained him, and edu-
cation as well as inclination now kept
him with the discarded lover.
"Negerfoot p exclaimed Mark, after he
had appeared to leave the contents of the
anonymous letters to the hounds intelli-
gence, you and me is too old to learn
anything new can set good snare
and you can follow strong trail That's
all"
The hound stood up and bayed low.
Mark saw that the mail buggy was at
the gate and the deaf-looking old man of
driver had a letter for him
Where's it from ?" demanded Mark.
Dunno. You know / can't read"
The mail carrier in that country, who
also carried packages to the train to exc
out living, delivered letters to some
roadside customers. AS he passed along.
Mark opened the letter.
1t was hooking narrative Of his be-
ing Tilted 1t reminded him of some i'm
perfections in his youthful history. 1t
even jeered at his gamecocks and empha-
sized the stubborn fact that he had not
won main all last winter.
There was no signature to the letter.
1t did not seem, to Marks inexpert art
with the pen, to be in the handwriting of
the other anonymous letters, which he
now took up from the caress of Negro
foot.
'It's somebody with game flavor for
ole family history, anyway"
AS he spoke the bloodhound ran his
muzzle- barrel into the freshly-opened
letter and shifted and whined.
Mark Hanson smelt the paper. He next
took up the anonymous letters left with
him and applied them to his nose
Slowly whistling he took his dog to a
crib and daintily, parsimonieusly fed
him on rare morsel of food and locked
him in with the anonymous letters for
his education.
All the next day Mark Hanson sat
thinking over the people far and near
who knew SO much about other peoples
business He made list of all the Cos
sips and meddlers, men and women.
The third day he took his hungry
hound out of the crib, showed him favor
lite food but withheld it, made him scent
the anonymous letters again and again,
and trail them from place to place, and
petted the animal while teaching him
chirography.
The fourth day Mark took his riding
whip, mounted his horse, whistled to
Negrofoot and started on journey of
inspection.
His free habits made him easily well
come at every suspected homestead, and
upon each he had often bestowed small
fame in Maryland hospitality
At every place he called for paper and
writing materials to write letter.
Near pightfall Dave Hightman say his
friend come into the store with a weary
face.
Dave, I've failed. Me and Negerfoot,
too. / s'pose we amt had the proper
schooling. Git your horse and ride over
the mountain"
They passed the gap under the bright
stars that seemed so near, while the winds
roared in the forests upon the knobs
above
Carrie Devoe read the failure of the
inquest as they entered, and she rejected
her lovers kiss.
"Never can we marry" she repeated,
until this miscreant is foundp
Carrie" spoke Mark Hanson, cts that
which touches any honor; for you may
think Pm trying to divide you from Dave
by not finding this culprit. I've followed
every clue. I've gone to the old woman's
who sits at the window blinds and peeps,
and to the young preachers who is so af-
fectionate at funerals; to the bOok-can-
vasser's and amongst the postmaster's
daughters; wherever there was too much
slyness, or too much knowledge and OPP
portunity, or hidden rascality that could
tempt one child of mater to accuse his
fellow-being of the same"
He stopped and looked suddenly across
the room where Grandfather Devoe was
writing his memoirs, Indifferent to the
conversation around him.
Carrie! Davep' exclaimed Mark Han
son, ''did you ever see bloodhound that
could read handwriting before? Look a.
therep
The muzzle of Negrofoot, the blood
hound, was on Grandfather Devoe's man
uscript.
With gunner's sliding movement,
Mark Hanson stole across the room and
lifted Grandfather Devoe's page of manu-
sCIIp,.
EYER, Negerfoot,' he whistled, "Pvegot
your supper in my pocket. Yer, Carrie
low many lashes do you say for the
anonymous letter-writer?"
The old man started up, feeble and
pale.
His granddaughter ran forward and
seized the whip.
"He the writer of these anonymous
letters? ImpossibleF
"Plltrust the dog scent every time ! I'll
trust my nose, tool Smell of that paper
Colonel Devoe writes on, and of the pa
pers these yer letters is wrote upon. It's
the same, and there amt no such paper
used by another, that can write, in all
this district of country. Thars Italian
rags and sour alumni and spilled chloride
of lime in that letter paper. And |
accuse this man of sending them letters ~
Down fell the whip lightly upon the
old mans back.
Tnstaad of resentinp II the old man